"Dust In" The Wind

The three-putt, three part implosion of Dustin Johnson


Did you miss any of our coverage from the 2015 U.S. Open? Catch up here:
Sunday, June 21 — The Almost Greatest Story About The Almost Greatest Ending in U.S. Open History
Saturday, June 20 — Fox In The Hen (OK, Peacock) House
Friday, June 19 — Let The Gripes Begin: What They’re Saying About Chambers Bay
Thursday, June 18 — Lessons Learned On Day One At The U.S. Open


Dustin Johnson hits his third shot on the ninth hole during the final round of the 2015 U.S. Open at Chambers Bay in University Place, Wash. on Sunday, June 21, 2015.  (Copyright USGA/Darren Carroll)
Dustin Johnson hits his third shot on the ninth hole during the final round of the 2015 U.S. Open at Chambers Bay in University Place, Wash. on Sunday, June 21, 2015. (Copyright USGA/Darren Carroll)
By Dick Stephens
CG Publisher

Oh. My. God.
I thought that. You thought that. Jason Day thought that — so did Jordan Spieth. And then there was stoic Dustin Johnson. The man that found himself 12 feet from shaking off that rather heavy “major” monkey that resides on his strong back. A man that found himself in the driver’s seat with all the controls on a course, and a week, where control was hard to find.
Before this incredible moment in golf history – the kind every kid, including Johnson, dreams of — there was a clash of titans that was taking place all over the dunes that line Chambers Bay. The whole world watched giants trade punches. Branden Grace applied pressure before blowing his drive on 16 halfway to Puget Sound, then coming two inches short on 17 on a putt that would have perhaps changed the whole outcome. Brent Snedeker and Rory McIlroy lit the course on fire for over two hours, making huge come-from-behind runs and earning thunderous cheers that could be heard rolling over the hills. Jason Day fought his way for an even-keel round, both in his head and on the leaderboard. Louis Oosthuizen capping a week of hell and high water record-setting golf with six birdies in his final nine holes to go from 9-over par through 20 holes, to the clubhouse leader at 4-under after 72.
Then, there was our eventual champion, who was feisty and played with gumption, birdieing 16 to take a three-shot lead, then opening the door with a double bogey on 17. Spieth’s second shot brought the crowd to its feet, leaving him an eagle putt to all but seal the deal, before settling for birdie, hanging his head on caddy Michael Greller’s shoulder, and hoping his one-shot lead would be enough. There was a restlessness in the air. Waiting against the rope behind 18 green, the tension and anticipation was thick.
D.J. crushed his drive, then hit a 5-iron to a dozen feet for eagle. FOR EAGLE to win the U.S. Open — a tournament that has only once in its history been won by a 72nd-hole birdie, much less eagle. Four failed majors in which DJ played in the final group would be washed away with a very make-able stroke of the putter.
With the sun beginning to set over the Olympics and the calmness of Puget Sound, 30,000 attendees scrambling to find a sightline, media from all around the world in concentric semi-circles four-deep against the ropes waiting to write their lead paragraphs and take photos showing the rarest form of the human condition, Johnson lined up his putt. In the moment, this incredible specimen of a man seemed invincible.
But, rather than an eagle to win, or a valiant attempt that finished close for a tap-in and an 18-hole playoff, we instead all bore witness to a meltdown we will never forget. It happened in three parts.
PART ONE – I’m no mind-reader or a clairvoyant. But, I know athletes, golfers and how to read people. I could see in Johnson’s face a blankness as he waited and assessed the putt line and situation. Day, whose first putt came to rest inside Johnson’s, asked DJ if he wanted Day to putt out, and the answer seemed obvious — yes, of course, so that Johnson can have the final moments of this U.S. Open all to himself. Johnson’s reply, though, showed uncertainty, telling Day he could do whatever he preferred. Rather than take control of the situation, Johnson wanted to let Day take the lead. Day respectfully offered to putt out then, to which Johnson said, “Sure. Great.” This was the moment I truly felt that Johnson lost. The confidence and stoicism that had defined his run through the gauntlet at Chambers Bay was replaced with blankness. It was hard to watch. My heart began to break for the guy.
PART TWO – As he approached the putt and stood over it, he didn’t look confident. The speed of the putt and green would not, and could not, handle a firm rap. It needed to be tapped. When the ball rolled by the cup five inches to the left — not even close, the whole crowd let out a deep, deep sigh. I will never forget it. Johnson blew his chance to close the door, grab the trophy and snare an eagle. I said in the media grouping quietly, but somewhat primally, “Oh my God, that’s way too much meat left on the bone.” A photographer with a lens that seemed longer than the four feet that separated Johnson’s tying putt from the hole, said back to me, “It’s over.” But of course, the world was thinking, he can do this. The second putt will surely fall in.
PART THREE – With four feet separating him from a respectable birdie to tie Jordy for a Monday showdown, Johnson didn’t stroke the ball cleanly, leaving what should have been a simple stroke back up the hill low, to the “amateur” side of the cup. The place fell to pieces, except for those pulling for the 21-year-old Spieth to win back-to-back majors. Johnson, with that pair of misses, underscored his legacy of not being a closer. It pains me to write this and to recall what I saw. Like Italy’s Roberto Baggio in the 1994 World Cup, horribly missing the goal as the final kicker in the shootout against Brazil. Or Bill Buckner watching the ball roll between his legs in the World Series. Or Scott Hoch in the 1989 Masters. These great athletes are unfortunately not recognized for their 200 career goals, 2,700 hits and 11 Tour victories. They are known as players that succumbed to the pressure. Men that buckled and folded in moments that left them as mice, not men.
I really like Dustin Johnson. I like that he represents an iconic image of the future of golf. I like the concussion of air that comes off his club face on his booming drives and the deftness of his chips that land soft as a butterfly. I’m on his side. Now a family man, with a beautiful house, beautiful fiancee, beautiful child and wealth beyond his wildest imagination, he will replay what transpired in his head 10,000 times between Sunday evening and the day he dies. I feel he has lots more major shots left in him. The question is whether he will close the deal. Time will tell.
All this holding and folding and prognostication did leave us with an amazing champion in Spieth, who won his second-consecutive major and is poised well for The Open Championship at St. Andrews. Perhaps the grandness of Spieth’s feat will someday overshadow Johnson’s huge letdown. But it won’t be forgotten.

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